General Manager's Blog

Technical Challenges for the Technically Challenged

2007-04-01T10:54:00.000-07:00

It seems my recent posts have not been going out to the subscriber list - a travesty! Our web designer extraordinaire Pierre seems to have fixed the problem, so this is a quick post to see if it's working. Check out the latest, and thanks to all my loyal readers (make that reader, Dad got bored but Mom's still hanging in).

Multiple Personalities

2007-03-28T09:47:00.000-07:00

Opus has never claimed to be the clichéd “home away from home”. Unless of course your bathroom at home has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street. I like to compare Opus to “a cool friend’s apartment”, a phrase I appropriated from one of our frequent guests. It captures the hotel’s residential feel and some key design elements.

When I first heard that the hotel’s interior design team, led by the brilliant Robert Bailey (formerly of Architectura, now Stantec), was planning five guestroom décor schemes and 16 layouts, I thought they were crazy. With only 96 rooms, where was the economy of scale? They also planned to paint rooms red, blue, green and yellow. Colours? What about the official colour of every hotel room ever built: beige? They also casually mentioned that some rooms would have windows between the bathroom and bedroom – but no blinds, just a translucent sheer. I managed to win that battle by reminding them that some people travel with their grandmother. But the other design elements remained.

The hotel’s unique design features have made it fun to give tours. What I didn’t anticipate were the clever marketing opportunities the décor schemes presented. For inspiration, the design team created five fictional characters to represent the hotel’s typical guests, and then built rooms around them. Colours, fabrics and furnishings were selected to evoke the diverse lifestyles these personalities represented.

Think of these characters as a friend you’re coming to stay with. If you choose Susan, you’ll get a “stylish and sophisticated” blue room with curvy lamps and sexy fabrics. Susan’s a fashionista from Toronto who’s into the “see and be seen” scene. You’ll also find a selection of CDs and books to match her refined tastes (think opera, Dido and high fashion). After all, what do you do when you stay at a friend’s? You check out her CD collection and snoop through her bookshelf. Maybe you raid the fridge. But be forewarned, it’ll cost you at Opus. Just don’t steal anything like, say, towels or bathrobes or she might not invite you back.

If you’re feeling more uninhibited you’ll probably want to hang out with Billy. He’s a musician-filmmaker from London and his “artful & eclectic” room features lime green walls, whimsical art and faux rabbit-fur ottomans. Billy’s CD collection reflects his love of classic rock (think Kravitz and U2), whereas his books reflect his spiritual side (Ommm). Billy’s a party boy, so be prepared for a long night. Just don’t disturb Bob & Carol; they go to bed early. Bob’s a high tech exec and Carol’s journalist and they’re from San Francisco. Their “tony & traditional” yellow room leans toward comfort and conservative design. They’re not boring, they’re simply more mature and cultured. Oh, and Bob gets a lot of headaches. The CDs and books in this room reflect their fondness for jazz, classical music and higher learning.

Just down the hall you’ll find Mike, a doctor from New York who represents the convention traveler who breaks away from the crowd. His “modern and minimalist” room features cranberry-red walls, contemporary furnishings and edgy photography. Mike likes to dance to the divas and his leisure reading is decidedly non-medical, so be prepared for a blessedly superficial stay. But don’t get the wrong idea, ladies – sometimes Mike travels with his “friend” Steve. Upstairs in the penthouse suite you’ll find Dede, a method actress from Los Angeles and our resident drama queen. Her “daring & dramatic” suite features taupe walls, faux-fur fabrics and provocative art. Her taste in music is diverse but leans toward hip hop. She’s not much of a reader, but occasionally flips through books if there are lots of pictures. If you choose to hang out with Dede, be prepared to binge and splurge.

When Opus opened in 2002 we sent out a casting call for these characters and featured them in a photo shoot (see Billy above) and at our opening party. We’ve since tried to retire them, but people won’t let us. The concept of choosing a room to match your personality (or mood) captures the imagination. The media has written loads of stories about Mike and his friends. Currently, the characters are moonlighting as concierges in our Lifestyle Concierge program: you choose the personality that best suits your lifestyle and they tell you their favourite places to shop, dine and play in Vancouver.

What does the future hold for the Opus personalities? After almost five years, a few nips and tucks are in order. As we introduce new colours, fabrics and furnishings in our guestrooms we’ll update their profiles. Maybe Billy’s evolved into a Bono-like character who uses his fame for charitable causes. Maybe Susan’s career in fashion has taken off and she’s now alarmingly similar to Anna Wintour. As for Bob & Carol, rumour has it that Carol filed for divorce after catching Bob in Mike’s room. And Dede? Undoubtedly she shaved her head, did a stint in rehab and is building an orphanage in Malawi. We’re also planning to bring the characters out of the bedroom and into Opus Bar, where we’ll be featuring a martini inspired by each personality.

The possibilities are endless. One thing I know for sure, the Opus personalities have checked in for the long term, and they’re looking forward to welcoming lots more guests. I’d love to hear which personality you identify with most. And check out CBC’s recent story on the Opus personalities.

The Cream In My Coffee

2007-03-07T10:13:00.000-08:00

In our relentless pursuit of world domination, right on the heels of assuming control of Elixir and Opus Bar, last week Opus management took control of Café O. Until now, this sunny northeast corner of the building was leased to a third party. It’s earned a reputation for making a mean cup of coffee, but one of the baristas was, well, kind of mean. A tad overzealous in his love for coffee, he has chased guests out of the café for being so barbaric as to ask for – gasp – cream with their coffee. His passion was admirable, but his service tactics didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the hotel.

Vancouverites can be funny about coffee. “I've never seen so much coffee in all my life,” Bette Midler once commented during a performance in Vancouver. “The whole town is on a caffeine jag, and still nothing gets done any faster." I myself love coffee, but I’m far from a purist. Afraid to confess that I too like a bit of cream in my coffee, I used to bypass Café O and skulk over to Starbucks. Now I can simply pop upstairs without fear of reprisal.

We had less than two weeks to organize the seamless transfer of Café O into our hands, with no downtime in between. Admittedly, I was not thrilled at the prospect of taking over a coffee shop while still consumed by new responsibilities in the restaurant and lounge. I secretly feared we wouldn't be able to recruit staff in time for opening and I'd be pulling shifts behind the counter. Imagine a barista who secretly wonders what’s really so bad about instant coffee.

It’s times like this when I really appreciate the value of great staff. Over the years we’ve assembled a crack team at Opus. I respect each employee so much I could spend hours raving about them, but I’d never want to single one out over another. Amazingly, quite a few of us have been here since day one and are celebrating our fifth anniversary this year. The occasional live one gets away, but our goal is to “trade up” – to find an even better replacement. In taking over management of Elixir and Opus Bar we snagged three big fish: Leonard, an outstanding director of food & beverage; Michael, a highly experienced restaurant manager; and Annabel, a respected local publicist. Working with existing talent, these individuals will no doubt bring great things to Opus.

Okay, okay, I know I’m being really boring. But allow me a sentimental moment and I promise to return to wedding day relocates, make-up smearing drag queens and celebrity meltdowns on my next post.

On its first day of operation Thursday, Café O pulled in a staggering $83 in revenue. Why waste everyone’s time when there are much greater returns in other departments? Because every department at Opus, large and small, is a critical part of the experience.

Next time you’re in Yaletown I invite you to swing by Café O, Elixir or Opus Bar to check us out. Now that we manage every inch of this building I guarantee you’ll experience even better service, a renewed optimism among staff and a sense of warmth and freshness everywhere. And if you want cream in your coffee, it’s totally okay by us.

Deconstructing Mini-bars

2007-02-16T12:47:00.000-08:00

It’s time for our annual mini-bar program review at Opus, so it was quite timely that a little package arrived for me by courier yesterday. Upon opening it I found a “Mile High Kit” complete with lubricant, condoms and a “whisper-quiet massager”. Curious, I turned the massager on. The vibration was so powerful it almost jumped out of my hands. This handy little device appears to be designed for women feeling a bit frisky on the road. But at the size of a small lipstick container I can’t imagine it’s a satisfying substitute for the real thing. Ladies?

Will Opus offer it in our mini-bars? I’m not sure. Currently we offer an “intimacy kit” complete with lubricant and condoms (a big seller), but so far no electronic devices. As much as we like to position Opus as edgy and innovative, something about offering sex toys in the mini-bar makes me nervous. How will guests respond to finding a vibrator next to the M&Ms? And, equally importantly, will it sell?

When I stayed at the Drake Hotel in Toronto last fall I discovered an entire room service menu of sex toys and accoutrements. It made me wonder how many guests pick up the phone and place an order. I’m embarrassed enough asking for a side of mayonnaise with my fries. In New York, in the mini-bar at the 60 Thompson Hotel I found a “Shag Bag” complete with condoms, lubricant and a “natural aphrodisiac”. Oh, and Altoids - in case the aphrodisiac isn’t enough, I guess. At the Gansevoort Hotel the Mile High Kit in my room included a feather tickler. Alas, I was traveling on business and decided it wouldn't be appropriate to try it out on colleagues.

Hotels are often accused of gouging when it comes to mini-bar pricing. What travelers don’t take into account are the costs of labour, spoilage and mysteriously vanishing items. Like room service and banquets, mini-bars are more a service than a profit centre. It’s about convenience. You may ask why you’d pay $4 for a bag of Doritos when you can get one around the corner for 1/4 the price. But who wants to get dressed and go out when there’s one calling your name just a few feet away?

When I travel I always check out the mini-bar, but I rarely succumb to temptation. Well, not right away. I usually check out the prices, let out a great huff of indignation and slam the door. Later, while watching TV, I might have another peak. So many shiny, scrumptious-looking snacks! Such cute, harmless-looking minis! I don’t know about you, but my fridge at home is never stocked this well. Four types of beer? Three choices of chocolate bar? A dozen different snacks? Plus wine, champagne, vodka, gin, rum and liqueurs. It’s like the room comes with a party. How can you not resist?

Yet there are many highly complex emotions involved. It begins with denial: “I simply don’t want that can of Pringles.” Next comes anger: “Those prices are outrageous!” Then bargaining sets in. “If I eat those Pringles I won’t need dinner. It’s cheaper than room service, so I’d actually save money. Which means, in theory, I could have a beer too. And maybe even that little pack of Oreos.” We finally succumb, and a flurry of gluttony follows. Then depression sets in: “I’m fat, I hate myself, and I feel like barfing.” Finally, acceptance: “It’s done and there’s no turning back. And my, doesn’t that Kit Kat look tasty…” Perhaps not uncoincidentally, these are the same five stages of death.

Of course, it’s after those trips when you stoically refuse to touch the mini-bar that, four months later, a late charge shows up on your Visa statement. Your boss wants to know why you drank four minis of Cuervo and a bottle of Grey Goose on a business trip. Your spouse wants to know why you used the Shag Bag. You call the hotel and ask them to remove the charge. But you’re dealing with the Accounting department now. You might as well have drank the Cuervo.

Don’t blame the hotel for these late charges, blame the unscrupulous guest who checked out before you and didn’t fess up to the late-night binge. There’s a reason why hotels don’t call them “honour bars” anymore. When I checked into a room at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel last year I discovered that the mini-bar had been plundered by the previous guest. Terrified I’d be charged, I called the front desk repeatedly, insisting they send an employee up to investigate and, if necessary, dust for fingerprints and press charges. They were a bit more blasé. Eventually someone arrived to replenish the items. I’m still expecting the charges to show up on my Visa statement.

Some travelers go to a store after a binge and try to replace the items. But have you ever tried to find a 50ml bottle of Grand Marnier? Other, less scrupulous guests refill the bottles with water. As if the hotel won’t notice. Occasionally a guests thinks the entire contents of the mini-bar are free. Imagine his shock when he sees the $500 charge on his bill. Recently one of our guests was afraid to touch the fruit basket and wine we left in her room, even though it came with a welcome card from me, because she thought we'd charge her. Now that's hospitality. But who can blame guests these days when hotel rooms are starting like the local 7-Eleven?

Some hotels put a price tag on virtually everything in the room: lamps, bed, artwork, toilet etc. It’s like sleeping in an Ikea showroom. One of my pet peeves is those big bottles of water on the nightstand. They look like a thoughtful gift from the hotel until you see the $9 price tag. (At Opus we offer complimentary bottled water at turndown.) One positive trend is the offering of healthful products. But, while I'm sure these items are appreciated, most travellers will still opt for a Mars Bar and Red Bull.

The photo above is of me as I discover the great mini-bar at Hotel Le Germain in Montreal. No, I didn’t find a pair of women’s shoes inside (though not a bad idea). They’re Katrina’s. Don’t ask.

Look Who's Blogging

2007-02-05T13:07:00.000-08:00

Dan finally succumbed to the vicious flu bug which seems to have felled half my office this week, so the charge of blogging rests with me. Always a daunting task, but one must blog on. As I thought about what I might ‘blog’ today, what kept coming to mind was, well, blogs. It seems like everyone is blogging nowadays. The President of Iran recently blogged a Merry Christmas message, the Prince of Wales offered up a day in the life of HRH, and Posh (sorry, Mrs. Beckham) shared her various ramblings on L.A.: it’s officical – blogging’s gone mainstream.

Once the “domain of angst-ridden teens and doomed presidential candidates”, according to Fast Company, there are now well over 2 million bloggers tap-tap-tapping away- never during work hours of course. Blogging has further democratized the sharing of information. In a world where many feel increasingly isolated by technology, blogging has a grassroots, town hall feel to it. Sort of the Speakers Corner of the 21st century. No longer is the act of writing relegated to the rarified and qualified (read authors, journalists and academics). Every Tom, Dick and Mary Kate & Ashley can share their latest pearls of wisdom. What thankfully used to be confined to a tattered and private little black book is now published for the world to see.

Inevitably enough, with the utterance of ‘grassroots’, Corporate America’s ears perk up. What? A CHEAP marketing channel? And so now, it seems, amidst all the fervent blogger-auteurs, every industry is getting ‘hip’ to the blog movement.

The travel industry has embraced blogging with a fervour not seen since the airline industry invented “revenue management”, and made charging wildly different prices for the exact same seat a respectable and normal practice. Nowadays, thousands of intrepid travelers are chronicling their adventures with the help of sites such as travelblog.org, travelblogs.com and travelpod.com. Many are painfully dull –the literary equivalent of sifting through thousands of (someone else’s) travel photos. Some entrepreneurs have cleverly turned personal ramblings previously relegated to postcards into lucrative business ventures. Last weekend I read about 3 different globetrotters who have scored various corporate endorsements based on their writings. Bliss! This proves there IS a way to combine soul-fulfilling travel with pocket-filling cash. (Anyone out there looking to endorse me?). Forbes has even compiled their “best of” list of travel blogs.

Hoteliers have latched onto blogging as an informal (and inexpensive) channel with which to communicate with (and subtly market to) their guests. Hotels seeking to differentiate themselves from their competition, or to establish their ‘cool cred’, have all started blogging. We added the popular “GM’s Blog” to the Opus website in 2006. No marketing spin here: our blog gives guests and curiosity-seekers a peek behind the luxurious and implacable façade of the hotel. Where else can you read the real life antics of misbehaving drag queens or ice cold divas? (Of course I remain convinced the real lure of our blog is the intimate look inside the life and times of the sales and marketing department. Who wouldn’t want to read about that?!)

One of the most recent and alarming additions to the hotel blog community is Bill Marriott’s blog. At 75, and a self-confessed Luddite, Marriott has become a prolific blogger. (To give begrudging credit where it's due, he has quite a following of readers.) With Marriott blogging about the history of his hotel chain it’s clear to blog is now the norm . Clearly to stay ahead of the pack we need to come up with something new now. Maybe weekly podcasts from the Admin offices of Opus? Hm, no. That would entail maintaining a tidy office and eradicating all the tell tale open cookie and chocolate boxes littering our desks. Or perhaps vlogs (video logging) from guestrooms? I hear certain hotels in Vegas have live feeds beaming from poolside to website. Now THAT could prove interesting.

(Dan will be back next week!)

SOS From Island Paradise

2007-01-15T11:25:00.000-08:00

An important step in a well-rounded hotel manager’s career is getting overseas experience. I’m proud to say that I have overseas experience – all of one month’s worth. I alluded to this story last June, and since then a number of readers have asked for the sordid details. So here goes.

In 1996, a hotel company approached me about a job as director of sales & marketing at a luxury resort in Palau. I wasn’t keen on living on a tropical island, but they assured me it would be my base only and I’d be traveling around the world on business at least six months a year – in Australia, Europe, Asia and North America. It sounded too good to resist. I signed a two-year contract, gave up my apartment, job and happy Vancouver life, and told friends I wouldn’t be back for at several years because this was the beginning of my life as an international hotelier and playboy.

A month later I was back.

The problem had little to do with Palau itself, which is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, a chain of 200 islands in the South Pacific, with friendly people and some of the world’s best scuba diving. It had more to do with me. Things started off badly when, upon arrival, I learned that the travel budget had been axed. In the next six months I’d be going to Korea and Taiwan and nowhere else. Island fever quickly set in.

During my first week I attended a 5-day orientation session that could have been covered in an hour. In week two I wrote the resort’s marketing plan, reorganized the office, designed a series of ads and launched a marketing campaign. By week three I had nothing to do. The bulk of my job involved printing form letters, placing them in envelopes and mailing them. I took four years of university for this? To keep from going insane I learned to lick envelopes very, very slowly. Still, I could get a day’s work done in the first half-hour. I would have just called it a day and headed for the beach, but face time was important at this resort.

Staff always seemed busy, although I wasn’t sure why. The phones rarely rang, there was no email, and faxes were reserved for emergencies. When I realized life was going to be like this for two long years I decided it was an emergency. I scribbled “Get me the hell out of here!” on a piece of paper and faxed it to a colleague in Vancouver. I never heard back. During lunchtime I’d go for long walks and contemplate hurling myself into the ocean. At night I was obliged to attend the resort cocktail party and schmooze guests, which I found particularly difficult because I hated them for being happy and tanned while I was miserable and pale.

Shopping on the island was interesting. When I needed sunglasses I was forced to choose between a pair of Minnie Mouse sunglasses and some bad-ass Terminator sunglasses. I opted for the latter, which did little to boost my popularity on the island. The GM let me drive the resort’s beat-up old car, which was nice, except, being Japanese-made, its steering wheel was on the right side. One day I lost my bearings – maybe it was the sunglasses – and swerved onto the shoulder of the road, almost taking out a local. I came so close I heard his sharp intake of breath. This didn’t help my popularity either.

It wasn’t all bad. One day the GM took me to Jellyfish Lake, hidden in a crater at the centre of one of the islands. The lake is full of enormous jellyfish that, through some ecological phenomenon, have lost their sting. You may remember it from Survivor: Palau, when it was featured as a prize in a reward challenge. We swam through schools of them, tossing them around like balls of Jell-o. Maybe it wasn’t so bad here after all, I thought. The next day I was evicted from my gorgeous room at the resort and relocated to a dark, prison-like apartment in Koror. That’s when I began to plan my escape.

Word got around that I was lonely. One night there was a knock on my door and a Palauan woman about twice my size stood grinning at me, smelling strong of perfume. I thanked her and sent her away. I was lonely, but not that lonely. Another night the resort’s ex-pats invited me to a party. I arrived hours late and angry, having driven around the island several times, lost in the total darkness among the winding roads. The party was in a garage. I was sipping beer, trying to look happy, when an enormous coconut crab (see above) fell from the rafters and landed on me. Have you seen those things? They’re the largest terrestrial anthropods on earth and look like those creatures in Alien. Everyone laughed. I almost fainted.

Within a few weeks I decided I had made a terrible mistake. I was a city guy, not an island guy. I went to see a travel agent. That afternoon, by coincidence, resort staff surprised me with a welcome reception. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I had just booked a flight home. The next day I broke the news to the GM. He didn’t believe me, and who could blame him. What kind of fool would fly halfway around the world to accept a job in paradise, only to go home after a month? Me, apparently.

As far as I’m concerned, those contestants on Survivor: Palau got off easy. At least I now know that island paradise is not for me, unless I’m on vacation. Chalk it up to experience – overseas experience.

Miscellaneous thoughts of little consequence

2006-06-30T16:38:00.000-07:00

How’s that for a gripping lead? A few months ago, when Katrina, our director of sales & marketing, came up with the idea of a general manager’s blog I thought it was brilliant. Back then I didn’t realize how hard it would be to come up with new material each week, and to find time to write it. I’m already looking forward to my two-week vacation in September, when I’ll be foisting this job on some unsuspecting colleague. (um, Katrina…?)

Truth is, I didn’t expect anyone to read my posts. But in just a couple of months these pages have been viewed by thousands. I’ve received lots of great comments, and would like to thank those who wrote for your encouraging words.

Interestingly, the only concerns about content came internally, from our LA-based publicists, who feared I had gone too far. What? they cried, you dished the name of the diva who used the F word on you? Eek! What, you admitted that Opus occasionally relocates guests? Double eek! What, you said the word “cleavage”? Triple eek! Their concerns compelled me to go back and soften some of my comments. Ironically, sanitizing my writing made me feel dirty, like I had compromised my artistic integrity. But our publicists are savvy, and they’ve done great things for Opus, so when they cry “Eek!” I listen.

Now, however, I find myself desperate for new content. It’s not that I don’t have a lot to say, the problem is that whenever I come up with an irreverent new idea I hear the publicists crying “Eek!” The pressure to perform within these parameters is daunting. I may have to start making things up.

One fairly innocuous subject I’m considering is chronicling the nine hotels I’ve worked for during my career. Sounds riveting, I know. But there have been interesting moments. For example, in 1996 I accepted, sight unseen, my “dream job” as director of sales & marketing at a resort in Micronesia. Where Micronesia is I’m still not entirely sure. It’s somewhere between Guam and the Philippines, a group of stunningly beautiful islands (pictured above). I signed a two-year contract, gave up my job and my apartment, held a going-away party that rivaled the closing ceremonies of the 2006 Winter Olympics, and got on the plane. It took me 36 hours to get there, and two hours to realize I had made a terrible mistake. A month later I was back in Vancouver, returning everyone’s going-away presents. I’ll explain why in a future post, but suffice it to say that as the plane took off from the island I had my middle finger planted firmly against the passenger window.

In another post I plan to shamelessly plug the mystery novel I wrote, called Murder in The Universe, which will be published next year. It’s about a highly dedicated hotel manager whose universe is turned upside down when his colleagues become suspects in the hit-and-run death of the hotel’s beloved owner. The incident occurs after a boozy staff party, on the eve of the arrival of a militant anti-impaired driving conference. General chaos ensues as values clash among hotel staff, activists, guests and the media. It's really fun, and I wrote it all by myself.

I should add a disclaimer that all characters in my novel – and the hotel itself – are purely fictional. Already I’ve had to reassure the owners of Opus that I came up with the premise long before I met them, and their lives are safe (for now). The great news is that the publisher has offered me a 3-book deal to develop the novel into a series. I won’t be giving up my day job, though, partly because I love it, and partly because I need new material. But mostly because I pretty much spent the advance celebrating a couple weeks ago.

Well, then, I’ve effectively completed this week’s post with mindless blather. I think that now makes me a bona fide blogger.

Together at last

2006-12-29T16:08:00.000-08:00

It’s December 29 and I’m feeling sorry for myself because for weeks now, while friends and colleagues in the industry have been stumbling from one holiday party to another in a boozy haze, I’ve never been busier. While they've been Christmas shopping during work hours, I've been shopping for a director of food & beverage. And while they've been inventing all sorts of excuses for coming in late and leaving early, I’ve been coming in early and leaving late. You get the idea. I’m bitter.

I was whining about this to my Mom over dinner last night, likely boring her to tears, and she basically told me to get over myself. Did I think being a general manager would be a walk in the park? I really hate it when she’s right. Problem is, I’ve never been fully convinced I want to be a hotel manager. Right now folding sweaters at the Gap or greeting at Walmart is sounding pretty appealing. I’ve always been in the hotel industry a bit grudgingly, convinced that another career is out there for me, one with more pay, less hours and frequent trips to Tahiti. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. LOVE IT. But would I want to be a general manager anywhere but Opus? Probably not.

Normally things settle down for me this time of year and I'm one of those irritating people drifting around in a boozy haze. But recently my job got a lot bigger. I’ve assumed responsibility for Elixir and Opus Bar. When Opus opened four years ago the hotel and the restaurant/lounge were set up as separate companies, and I joined the hotel side. The ownership wanted to avoid the dreaded curse of hotel restaurants: bad food, inflated prices and poor financial performance that sucks the life out of the more profitable rooms division. So Elixir was given its own identity, its own entrance and a brasserie concept that contrasted with the hotel's contemporary style. Things have worked out well for the most part, and Elixir and Opus Bar are popular with locals and guests alike. But there have been internal challenges and problems with consistency. For me it's been frustrating not to have control over food and beverage, but at the same time it’s allowed me to focus all my attention on the hotel. All that will change now that we’re one big family.

When Elixir staff first heard I was getting involved they were nervous. I guess someone told them about my days as a waiter in Toronto when I was in my early twenties. I had two waiter jobs, one in a fine-dining restaurant and the other in a nightclub on ladies’ nights. My specialty was spilling drinks, usually on people, like the cold glass of milk I dumped down an elderly woman’s back and all over her fur coat. She screamed so loud everyone ran over to look. I was so embarrassed and apologetic that she felt sorry for me and gave me an enormous tip. At the nightclub I didn’t fare as well with spills. The ladies wanted my scrawny butt out of the way so they could see the big, buff strippers. Now that Elixir staff know I won’t be waiting on tables, they’re very supportive of the change.

Present position excluded, serving tables is the most stressful job I’ve ever had. Anyone who scrimps on the tip after receiving good service should be forced to spend a day as a server. I still have a recurring nightmare in which I have a section full of hungry, angry guests and the kitchen is totally backed up. It’s like those university dreams where you show up for an exam and realize you never attended class. (Other people have those dreams too, right? It's not just me?)

Once I get a director of food and beverage in place the workload should ease up. I’m really excited about working with our management team to provide a seamlessly brilliant experience in Elixir, Opus Bar and Opus Hotel in 2007. Stay tuned, and swing by.

One last note. Condé Nast Traveler’s 2007 Gold List is out and once again Opus has been recognized as one of the top hotels in the world. What’s also cool is the write-up tells readers to “check out the general manager’s irreverent blog”. Thanks for the plug, CNT.

Wishing all of you a very happy new year! Hope to see you at Opus soon.

Of Budgets and other sundry thoughts

2006-10-27T12:16:00.000-07:00

As Dan mentioned in his last entry, it’s budget time here at Opus. And that means lots and lots of spreadsheets. So many in fact, Dan’s locked the door to his office (I assume he’s working in there), has sent out for lunch, and has entrusted the latest blog to me. I had thought writing about our budget process but having sat in a budget meeting until 7.30pm last night, the idea of actually trying to turn that exercise into an entertaining read is too painful to contemplate. And, likely it would be the reading equivalent of watching paint dry for you.

A new hotel is opening in town next year, and I’m of mixed emotions about its arrival. On the one hand, I welcome a competitor. It keeps us sharp, ensures Opus never rests on the laurels of its reputation. We’ve been the only newcomer to the hotel scene for a few years now with no one to challenge us. A new hotel forces us to reevaluate the services we offer, the products we provide, our message to guests, our brand in the market - everything. We welcomed words like ‘new’ and ‘hot’ when we opened, but we’ve matured. Our focus now is on keeping Opus fresh and unique and always providing seamless, warm, friendly service. Relevance, substance AND style.

But frankly, I confess I’m a bit nervous too. Will our guests love us enough to stay? Or will they be lured away by a flashy new hotel. I’m betting the relationships we’ve built will keep them at Opus, but know there aren’t any guarantees. Frankly, it’s a lot like the fickle dating scene (but that’s for a different blog). Will they be seduced by some pretty young ingénue who beckons coyly, or will they demonstrate their steadfast loyalty to sophisticated and stylish Opus?

Recognizing that ‘all’s fair in love and hotel competition’ I confess, nonetheless, that I am tiring of the ‘secret shopper’ phone calls from this new hotel on the block, trying to get us to divulge rates and other industry information. Hey, we all want to cooperate in this industry, but you’re our competitor. And that means, stop calling me for information! Hm. This could soon turn into a rant, I’ll move on now.

It’s Friday, and that means, oh right, more budgets. Today, the fun was slated to start at 2pm, but we decided that we should start a little earlier – like 10am. That should give us a solid 7 hours to wrap things up before the weekend. Getting the office environment right is an integral part of the budget process. We sometimes get a bit giddy during budget season (not so much because of the entertainment value of excel sheets), but insufficient oxygen levels. That means turning the room temperature way down low – Arctic-style. Why? Because 4 bodies X 7 hours + a closed office = dangerously high emission levels of CO2. Enough to lull one to sleep. (Who me? Never).To ensure (artificially induced) alertness, we keep cold and thus clear headed. It also means copious caffeine and sugar. I’ve got my triple shot Americano at the ready (luke-cool, of course, since the office is so damn cold), and a plate of chocolate dipped Halloween themed cookies for all to enjoy. I noticed Dan’s also bought food today: more muffins, cakes, and cookies. This isn’t a good sign. Clearly he’s anticipating a long meeting from the volume of baked goods available. (Please see my blog on hotels and food for further reading on the dietary dangers of this business).

With no windows or fresh air to distract us, a week’s supply of white flour, sugar and caffeine to nourish us, the comforting blue glow of the computer screen to soothe us, we’re ready to proceed. Not surprisingly, today we’re trying to ‘find’ more revenue, and ‘shave’ more expenses. I’d rather stick to blogging.

Must Love Smiling

2006-06-12T10:28:00.000-07:00

Last week was a busy one at Opus, with 4 perfect fills in 7 days. We’re currently hiring for positions in reservations, guest services and housekeeping. So if you know anyone who is experienced, has a great attitude, is well mannered and exceptionally competent, we’d like to hear from them. I have friends who might want to marry them, too.

Note, candidates must love smiling. Together with eye contact and guest name usage, smiles form the basics of great guest service. Of course, I’m talking about genuine smiles. Fake smiles, plastic smiles, vacant smiles and smiles that come across as obsequious, condescending or creepy don't quite cut it in this business. It also helps to know when to turn a smile off, like when a guest is yelling at you. But one must never turn off the “can do” attitude. Just ask Corina, our ever-smiling Room Service & Banquets Captain, pictured above.

I once worked with a woman named Nancy who got frazzled frequently, but you never knew it because she hid behind her great smile. She was famous for malapropisms. Once, during a particularly hectic day on the front desk, she picked up the phone and said, “Thank you for helping, how may I hold you?” Another time, craving a cigarette, she picked up the phone and said, “Front desk, Nancy smoking.” She always had a smile on her face, so who could fault her?

Another time I overheard a front desk agent, Lina, also infamous for malapropisms, on the phone with a guest. “Not to worry,” she was saying, “I’ll send an abductor up to your room immediately.” Alarmed, I imagined the terrified guest barricading herself in her room. I asked Lina what was going on. She smiled sweetly. “The guest is from Europe and her hairdryer won’t work in the power outlet.” Her eyes grew wide. “Did I say abductor? Oops. I meant adaptor!”

About 10 years ago I took a break from the hotel business and went to work for Vancouver Film School in marketing. It was a completely new environment for me: casual and creative, more concerned about ideas and stories than, say, appearances and feelings. The instructors had a profound distrust for my fancy clothes and sunny disposition. They labeled me “the suit”, which I discovered was akin to “the scab”. I soon found my kindred spirits in the Acting department, where everyone was always super upbeat and happy. Then I discovered they were only acting.

In the hotel business, a great smile tells guests that you’re here to help and you’re having a good time doing it. It’s a cliché, but smiles are contagious. After a while they become second nature, part of your uniform. Years ago, walking home after long shifts on the front desk, I’d find myself grinning like a halfwit at everyone I passed. But they smiled back, and it made me feel good. Much more effective than scowling. Or flipping the bird.

Smiley, experienced candidates are encouraged to send resumes to careers@opushotel.com.

Guests Behaving Badly

2006-11-24T10:48:00.000-08:00

Last weekend was a challenging one at Opus. You would have thought it was a full moon. Maybe the incessant rain and contaminated water seeped into our brains. Whatever the reason, by Sunday three of our guests had been blacklisted. They won’t be welcome back.

Of course, I never divulge the identity of guests, but I will say that one decided to hold a very loud party in his suite, and was indignant when we shut it down. He was even more belligerent the next day when we informed him he’d have to pay for the room charges of his neighbour, whose room and tax were refunded due to the disturbance. We didn’t press the issue when things got ugly, but we also won’t be registering him again.

Guests who arrive without a reservation are often suspect. Of course, lots of perfectly decent people rent hotel rooms spontaneously. But for some reason same-day reservations are the most likely to cause trouble. "Cash-only" guests are a red flag too, which is why some hotels won’t even register them.

Another challenging guest this weekend was a drag queen. I passed him in the lobby on Friday night and he looked fabulous – tall, thin and glamorous, with big blonde hair and lots of makeup. It was cool having a drag queen in residence, I thought at the time; added some colour to Opus. Unfortunately, it added a bit too much colour. I guess he didn’t like the colour of his room, because he repainted it – with his makeup. It was everywhere: carpet, walls, doors and bedding, resulting in a large cleaning bill. Bad drag queen, bad.

The third guest had a steady stream of, um, “rentals” (an industry term) to his room whom he claimed were his “nieces”. One got off on the wrong floor late in the night and knocked on another guest’s room to offer her services. The couple politely declined, and promptly called the front desk. That’s all I’ll say on this issue.

Oh, and another guest punched a hole in the wall of his room. But he fessed up (people usually neglect to mention these things at checkout, like we’re not going to notice). And he was gracious and apologetic, offering to pay for damages. So we’ll let him come back. We all have our bad days.

When I was duty manager at the Pan Pacific we used the term "UD", for Undesirable, to identify a visitor who might cause trouble. One afternoon a scruffy-looking guy in a lumberjack’s coat came to the front desk and asked me for a room. Deciding he was a UD, I politely informed him that the hotel was sold out. I guess he didn’t believe me, because he went across the street and called Reservations, who said, "Sure, come on over! We have lots of rooms". He did, and marched right up to me, yelling and swearing. Turns out he was an executive with Truck Loggers Association, one of the hotel’s top clients. Oops. Suddenly, a room was available.

At Opus we welcome people from all walks of life, and we don’t judge their conduct, as long as they respect their environment and don’t do anything illegal or harmful. Fortunately, for every misbehaving guest there are hundreds of wonderful guests. Because the safety and security of guests, employees and property is paramount, sometimes we're forced to be less understanding and compassionate that we’d like. Sensitivity and tact are essential. I can picture Dawn, our very-pregnant Guest Services Manager, sweetly but firmly informing the guest who had the party in his suite that he won’t be welcome back. Ever. I’m sure she handled it brilliantly.

Sometimes I miss my days in operations. But only sometimes.

Lysol comes to the rescue

2006-11-09T11:03:00.000-08:00

In the past few months I’ve received lots of great stories from readers about their hotel experiences: the good, the bad, the ugly and the hilarious. I encourage you to send me yours by clicking any of the “comments” link below. All comments are monitored, so please keep them clean and brief. Oh, and try to leave the boring parts out.

Now on to my rant. Recently there’s been a barrage of stories in the media regarding a study that found travelers leave a lot more than toothbrushes and socks behind at hotels. They leave germs too. Nasty germs with scary names like rhinovirus that lurk on TV remotes, light switches and hotel pens. In the ensuing panic, many overlooked the fact that the study was conducted before rooms were cleaned, not after. Even more suspect, it was sponsored by Lysol. No bias there.

If you’re going to freak out over germs you should probably be more concerned about the journey to your hotel. Think airplanes, airport bathrooms and taxi cabs. Unlike hotel rooms, which are occupied by one or two people and cleaned from top to bottom prior to your arrival, these places can be virtually festering with rhino-type viruses and God knows what else. Now that’s scary.

Another thing that hotels are battling these days is “amenity creep”. Now before you run off in a panic to take a scalding shower and spray Lysol all over your body, I should explain that it’s not some incurable flesh-eating disease brought on by secretly recycled hotel bath amenities. It refers to the hotel practice of adding new amenities to keep up with changes in technology, lifestyle and guest preferences. These litte extras can range from an eye soother to a spa. When one hotel adds one thing it forces competitors to follow suit, which can lead to the never-ending race known as amenity creep.

Guests appreciate these little extras – as long as they don’t have to pay for them. But they also increase hotel operating costs, and rooms can become so cluttered guests think they’ve walked into an occupied room. There’s something to say for the stark minimalism of the St Paul in Montreal or the Hotel on Rivington in New York, where my room didn't even have a clock radio.

No one has been hit harder by amenity creep than the housekeeping department, whose job has become increasingly complex and physically demanding. When Westin introduced Heavenly Beds, which consist of “a custom-designed pillow-top mattress set with 900 individual coils, 3 sheets, a down blanket - 3 versions for 3 different climates, comforter, crisp white duvet, and 5 goosedown/feather pillows”, I’m sure room attendants were totally unimpressed. They probably long for the days of a simple foam pad, two flat pillows and a floral bedspread. But guests don't, so things aren't likely to get easier.

Opus is not immune to this insidious disease. In fact, we might be a carrier. When we opened in 2002 we stocked our rooms with cordless phones, safes, irons, bathrobes, mini-bars, coffee stations and more, and we've been adding things since. Recently, we introduced CDs and bedside books, hand-selected to complement our five lifestyle-inspired décor schemes. Housekeeping staff must match the coloured dot on the CD or book with the colour of the room or they're fired (kidding). All the more reason not to forget to leave a tip for the room attendant. When I travel I even tidy up my room before the maid arrives. But that’s because I don’t want her to think I’m a slob.

“Technology creep” (I just made this term up; feel free to borrow it, it’s going to be big) is another challenge for guests and staff. When I worked at the Metropolitan Hotel the penthouse suite had a state-of-the-art entertainment system, but no one knew how to work it except for the owner, who lived in Toronto. Last Saturday I spent a night at Opus and experienced technology rage (another new term, also bound to be big). Upon arrival, everything in my room was perfect: bed turned down, curtains shut, stereo playing the first song on the hotel's Magnum Opus CD. Then the song repeated itself. Again. And again. I spent fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to turn the damned repeat function off, almost hurling it out the window, then finally gave up and switched it off.

Sometimes, silence and simplicity are best.

Waist not, want not.

2006-09-15T12:24:00.000-07:00

Working in Opus Hotel's marketing and sales department is fraught with dietary dangers. Keeping a trim figure falls a distant second to the onerous demands of our job. In a town filled with healthy Lululemon-wearing, smoked tofu eating denizens, we’re caught in a truffle-oil trap. How to look good and stay fit, while employed at a luxury hotel. It’s not easy. Each week, in the name of duty, we maneuver through a minefield of high calorie, low nutritional value, totally irresistible treats.

Offering unique and interesting “welcome amenities” is a surefire way to impress guests. As such, Opus is unswerving in its dedicated pursuit for the perfect cupcake to wish our guest ‘happy birthday’; the perfect chocolate chip cookie to say ‘welcome back’; or the perfect almond cake, ‘just because’. We would never EVER think of serving to our guests that which had not been well-sampled first. And, who better to assess the quality of a fine baked good than members of the Opus sales department who happily hone their skill on Timbits most Friday mornings. We never tire of this part of our job. Each time the kitchen brings plates of freshly baked amenities for our sampling pleasure, a mad Pamplona-style rush ensues towards the plates. Wiping the last crumb from our smiling faces we remind ourselves this caloric sacrifice is for our guests and our quest for excellence, and so we persevere in our sampling.

Able to rest easy that our sampling expertise has lent itself to the very best in guest “welcome amenities”, we are each able to re-focus our efforts towards the critical task of relationship building with key clients. Integral to forging these valuable relationships is “client entertainment”. Working for a hotel synonymous with luxury and sophistication, the sales department has a reputation to live up to. Clients are encouraged to indulge in whatever decadent item suits their fancy. We ask them to cast aside their usual reserved salad-eating ways to do enjoy an extra piece of hot baguette, a plate of crispy French fries, a serving of molten chocolate cake. And we’re right alongside them, keeping them company (day in, day out). After all, this is in the name of business development.

Acclaimed for his innovative cuisine, Elixir’s executive chef Don Letendre creates masterful new menus every quarter highlighting the seasonal best of British Columbia. No self-respecting chef would consider offering a new menu to discerning diners without first testing every item. Thus, armed with empty stomachs and singularly focused on the task ahead, the (you guessed it) sales department is called up for duty. Three hours are blocked in the Outlook schedules. Phones are forwarded. Menu tasting is serious business, and taking up serious time. Usually limited to one plate per 4 tasters, initially food quantities seem sparse- it’s no easy feat divvying up a 3 ounce tomato tarte tartin with avocado sorbet into 4 pieces to sample. Sampling momentum quickly picks up however, and a blur of new breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, petits plats AND dessert item ensues. Only the most experienced can survive this gourmet marathon, and return to their desks only to answer the next call of dietary duty: the staff birthday cake.

Running one of the world’s best hotels also means ensuring loyal and happy staff by acknowledging accomplishments and celebrating landmarks. This, of course, involves food. Employees are regularly feted on their birthdays with sumptuous cakes. Ever team players, the sales department is always out in force- belting out a vigorous ‘Happy Birthday’ before dispatching a piece of birthday cake. All in the name of team spirit.

My trainer recently asked me to keep a food log as part of the self-imposed torture that masquerades as my morning workouts. I assured him this would prove an exercise in futility and could already predict the disapproving looks that would be forthcoming. I acceded to his request however and dutifully recorded every morsel consumed over 7 days. As expected, he sternly admonished my consumption of white flour, white sugar, butter, and duck confit. I was sanguine however, in my knowledge that each buttery crumb was consumed in the name of duty.

[Dan’s back from his European Vacation next week. You can expect his next blog soon…Thanks for reading mine. It’s been fun!]

Holiday Havoc

2006-12-12T14:19:00.000-08:00

Dan’s swamped this week (with his never-ending, glamourous holiday parties) and asked if I could write the blog. Mais oui, I said, I love writing the Director of Sales and Marketing’s blog. I’ve got Christmas tunes streaming through my computer, an eggnog latte by my side, and am dreaming of my three week holiday to Thailand - yippee! Oh right, I’m here to write. Focus.

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, and holiday fever has hit the hotel. Stylish cranberry wreaths have been hung with care, in hopes that more revelers soon will stay/eat/drink here. Our guests are nestled in their Frette linen beds, with visions of (guess this one depends, but I’ll wager…) Beemers and Veuve dancing in their heads. Client lunches have been scheduled in Outlook calendars and post-work cocktails planned with colleagues after. The sales staff and I had just settled down to a flurry of card writing and gift box wrapping, when arose such a clatter I jumped up from my computer to see what was the matter. [Run on sentence, but this rhyming stuff is tough.] The Grey Goose minis and long-stemmed martini glasses were still lined up awaiting distribution to the masses. (Thank god those weren’t broken). But what to my horrified eyes did appear were cookie shards scattered both far and near. (Guess I’ll be asking the kitchen to bake a few dozen more “for our clients”. Ahem, not like they’re being eaten by staff). I think this is a far as I can take my poem. Anyone still reading?

The unofficial kickoff of the holiday season is the annual Tourism Vancouver Christmas lunch. Hordes of enthusiastic hospitality types flowed into the elegant Hotel Vancouver last Thursday ready to eat, drink, drink some more and be very, very merry. Chestnuts roasted, carolers caroled, turkeys basted (how DO they turn out 100 plus turkeys at once), and wine flowed. After some ‘networking’ (i.e. swapping industry gossip) came the requisite team photo with Santa and Mrs. Claus. Yet again this year, I landed on his knee - well hovered uncomfortably above as the pictures will attest (note the tight smile). There’s just something faintly lurid about sitting in Santa’s lap in one’s mid-thirties while sporting stilettos and a skirt. Finally, several hundred famished and red-faced party-goers settled down to the tunes of Dal Richards, and awaited their table’s turkey (the Tourism Nanaimo bunch next to us were particularly lively). Lunch culminated in enormous fanfare with the annual ‘Parade of Hats’. A not-so-dignified procession of hapless (usually new) employees cha-cha-cha’d their way around the ballroom in front of respected peers in gaudy chef hats featuring blinking Christmas lights, steaming dry ice, festooned with glittering ornaments and garlands, felt antlers, toy trains, company logos - literally, whatever. If you’re wondering which of us donned the hat, you should know that hell-would-freeze-over before any Opus employee would lap a room wearing a Leaning-Tower of Pisa inspired Christmas chapeau. Simply. Not. Stylish. At least not until Donatella agrees to design one.

Opus really shines in its own special way during the holiday season. Lights are twinkling throughout Elixir; purple and pink synthetic trees adorn Opus Bar; and silver disco-themed Christmas balls hang from the ceiling. Guests arrive laden with parcels from their shopping excursion or linger over a late afternoon glass of champagne in the lounge. There’s a general feeling of anticipation (or is that panic?) in the air. Christmas is only 2 weeks away.

From everyone at Opus to all our loyal readers, we wish you Happy Holidays. Stay tuned for the first story of 2007 early in January.

We want our word back

2006-06-21T09:39:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, the term “boutique hotel” arrived on the travel scene. Today, it seems like every second hotel is calling itself boutique, from 800-room properties to highway motels to mega chains. There are also boutique salons, ad agencies, law firms, hardware stores and pet stores. Everywhere, businesses are pilfering this precious term to distinguish themselves from the big-box-style retailers. And in the process, they’re ruining it for everyone.

We want our word back. It’s ours.

What exactly is a boutique hotel? Like the word “attractive” in personal ads, the term boutique is used loosely – and often generously – in the hotel industry. To me, a boutique hotel is defined by its size (200 rooms max), its ambience (intimate), its service (personalized), its independence (no chain affiliation) and its outlets (people actually use the restaurant and lounge). The design of a boutique hotel should reflect the city it’s in. And guests shouldn’t have to stumble through revolving doors to get in, or line up at the front desk behind hundreds of cruise ship passengers, or jostle with conventioneers wearing badges and silly hats. In a contemporary boutique hotel, brass and fussy floral arrangements should be banished, along with the music of Vivaldi and portraits of dead people.

When it comes to sullying the boutique name, there are no worse offenders than boutique hotels themselves. Many offer style or substance, but few provide both. Some are built around a hot lounge scene, but service is inconsistent and guestrooms feel like an afterthought (perhaps a deliberate ploy to keep guests out of rooms and in the lounge drinking). Others offer beautiful guestrooms and great service, but the lounge is about as lively as a public library. My favourite boutique hotels have style and substance. In the US they include Hotel Gansevoort and 60 Thompson in New York, The Mondrian and The Viceroy in LA, and Hotel Vitale and The Clift in San Francisco. While not technically boutiques, W hotels and a few of the Four Seasons also do this well.

One thing everyone seems to agree on is that boutique hotels are more expensive. This is partly quality related, partly market related: fewer rooms + high demand = higher rates. But it also has to do with economies of scale. Boutiques don’t order 50,000 bottles of shampoo at one time or serve 1,200 dinner guests. Uniqueness is part of the appeal, of course, and many travellers are willing to pay a premium for it. In the 1970s, the Holiday Inn’s slogan was “The Best Surprise Is No Surprise”. These days, travellers want surprises, as long as they don’t involve lost reservations or rodents scurrying across the floor.

Of course, not every hotel wants to be a boutique, and not every traveller wants to stay in a boutique hotel. Larger hotels can offer more space, better facilities, a more consistent product, and guest loyalty and frequent flier programs. At Opus we maintain that a traveller who chooses a hotel based on how many points she’ll collect toward an upgrade on her next car rental is probably not the best fit for us. There are plenty of other options in Vancouver.

Sometimes it’s fun to stay in big, grand hotels, landmark hotels, historic hotels – as long as they don’t smell musty. The largest hotel in the world is the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, with between 5,690 and 5,034 rooms, depending on the source (I’m not convinced management even knows). It comes with a sports arena, entertainment dome and wedding chapel. In fact, Vegas is home to 17 of the world’s 20 largest hotels. I stayed at The Venetian once (pictured above), which, at 4,027 suites averaging 700 square feet, ranks #4. Upon returning to the hotel each night (okay, each morning) it felt like I had to walk past all 4,000 suites to get to mine. A shuttle bus would have been nice. In Dubai, the upcoming Asia Asia Hotel plans to dethrone the MGM, with a whopping 6,500 rooms – a small city.

All this talk about big hotels is humbling, what with Opus’s mere 96 rooms, no sister properties, and no wedding chapel. Maybe we should become a boutique chain? This term is an oxymoron in my opinion. But some companies, like Kimpton and Joie de Vivre, have succeeded in building a collection while preserving each property’s individual personality. Buoyed by its success with W Hotels, Starwood has introduced aloft hotels, claiming on its website to be “re-imagining the classic American ‘On The Road’ tradition and giving rise to a hotel of new heights. A hotel so far above anything in its class that it can only be called by one name: aloft.” My rough translation: tarted-up motels for thrifty-but-cool travellers, with advertising copy written by a guy who used to write superhero movie trailers.

Now that the chains have stolen the word “boutique”, along with some of our best ideas, we in the boutique business better keep innovating. Fortunately, this is easier for us because we don’t have to wait for approval from corporate office. Stay tuned for advances in in-room technology, entertainment, amenities and environmentally friendly practices, along with even greater personalization.

And we best be finding another word for boutique.

The Tyranny of the Mistreated Traveller

2006-08-11T10:47:00.000-07:00

I’m still smarting from a review posted on a travel website recently by an unhappy guest. It’s hard not to take these comments personally. I’m passionate about the hotel, as are my staff, and we want everyone to love Opus. The frustrating thing is the review is anonymous, so I can’t respond and try to make things right.

With the ever-increasing popularity of websites like TripAdvisor, Fodors and Yahoo Travel, consumers are more empowered than ever, and hotels are at their mercy. Travellers can now bypass the propaganda on the hotel’s website and go direct to its guests for the real story. The day we hoteliers have always feared has arrived, God help us all. No more smoke and mirrors!

As a traveller, however, I love this new trend. Problem is, consumers don’t always agree. In my search for hotels in Rome for my upcoming vacation, I’ve come across hotel reviews ranging from “THIS HOTEL ROCKS!” to “THIS HOTEL SUCKS!” Which do I believe? Since the reviews are anonymous, how do I know that the “ROCKS!” reviewer isn’t the hotel manager, or his mother? If I follow his advice and it turns out the hotel really does suck, how can I hunt him down and hurt him for spoiling my vacation?

Fortunately, many of these sites rank hotels and give averages, so negative and positive comments tend to balance out. There are also helpful tips and entertaining anecdotes. Whenever I want to feel better about myself I read up on the “worst rated” hotels. Some sites even feature amateur photos. But even the most beautiful hotels look kind of scary without a professional photographer, stylist and supermodels posing as rapturous travellers. As for bogus reviews, TripAdvisor claims to review all submissions before they’re posted, and penalizes hotels for fake reviews. I don't know why a hotel would spend time fabricating reviews anyway; it only sets up false expectations. I’d rather focus on fine-tuning services to generate authentic reviews.

The immature, spiteful side of me sometimes wishes there was a website for hotels to rate guests. I’d give a “not impressed” rating to the guest who trashed a room last weekend and was found naked, drunk and bleeding from the you-know-what in the hallway after getting a Prince Albert (look it up at your own risk!). And I’d give a “very disappointed” rating to the guest who wrote a scathing, libelous letter about me that was published in Condé Nast Traveler after her car was towed from a clearly-marked no-parking zone and I refused to reimburse her. That happened 12 years ago, but I’m still mad. Otherwise, I’d write rave reviews about Opus guests, who are generally well-traveled, super-cool, and spend lots of money. Oh, except for the guy who checked in a few months ago and racked up over $4,000 in charges - with a stolen credit card. I’d probably give him a “do not recommend.”

If you have a bad hotel experience my advice is to contact the general manager directly and give him or her a chance to fix things. Try not to embellish your story or say nasty, malicious things about staff. Listing all the important people you know personally won’t really advance your case, either. Stick to the facts, and present a fair assessment of your experience. If you want compensation, say so. If you’ve been mistreated, any respectable general manager will acknowledge this and will make amends. We didn’t work our way up the ladder in the hospitality business from being petty and defensive.

If you’re not happy with the response, then by all means go ahead and publicize your experience on a travel website. But again, give a fair, rational assessment, which will lend you greater credibility. Try to avoid hyperbole, as in “it was the absolutely most unbelievably worst experience ever in my whole entire life”. Also, go easy on the CAPITAL LETTERS and exclamation marks!!!!! You risk being written off as an embittered, raving, possibly unstable person.

I’m always appreciative when guests take the time to provide feedback, good or bad. Either way, it helps me understand what we’re doing right and what we can do better. Fortunately, I get loads of positive comments and very few negative comments. But it’s the negative comments that keep me up at night. It’s like throwing a party and everyone but one person shows up, but instead of celebrating the amazing turnout you spend the night in a corner obsessing over why that person didn’t show. If you’re like me, you’ll do everything you can to ensure that person shows up next time and has a great time.

Guest comments are always welcome at comments@opushotel.com. All are reviewed and answered by me – unless they’re anonymous.

Rates and favours

2006-07-26T13:47:00.000-07:00

After meeting Stephen Perrine recently, Editor-In-Chief of Best Life magazine and all-around great guy, I picked up the current issue and came across an article by Peter Greenberg, author of Hotel Secrets From the Travel Detective. Mr. Greenberg advises readers looking for hotel room upgrades to call ahead to the general manager or director of sales and establish a relationship. This explains the calls I’ve received lately, seemingly out of the blue, from guests wanting to chat.

I think I speak on behalf of all general managers when I say I hope not many people take Mr. Greenberg’s advice. We’re always happy to hear from guests, but we’re not so eager to hear from guests looking for a free upgrade. If you’re determined to get an upgrade, my advice is to request one at the time of reservation. If the agent can’t confirm it then, ask him or her to note it on your reservation, with a reason for the request if you have one. Management reviews arrivals each day, and they are in the best position to upgrade you if something is available. But don’t have a hissy fit upon arrival if it hasn’t been granted. If you really need a bigger room, pony up.

When hotel managers travel we try to take care of one another, offering a special rate, upgrade or amenity, and sometimes even a comp room. If this sounds like favouritism, it is. GMs are “Connectors”; we have a vast network of contacts in the travel industry and we talk about our brand experiences ad nauseum to anyone who will listen. People come to us for recommendations, and we’re always happy to dispense our sage advice. So it’s in our best interest to recruit one another as brand advocates. It's also nice to have a deposit in the favour bank.

Before I travel I go online to see where I want to stay, then email the general manager to request an industry rate. I almost always get a favourable reply. Except last week, when I contacted Hotel Le Meurice in Paris. It’s more old-world than I tend to like, but I thought it would be fun to experience, and I've heard great things. I almost fell to the floor when I saw their rate: CDN $1,292 per night. They were also offering a “Decoding Da Vinci” package, which I thought was a bit unoriginal and bandwagon-ish, but only because I’m (apparently) the only person on earth who thought the book was semiliterate pulp. (Oops, so much for Dan Brown ever staying at Opus). My request for an industry rate was met with a polite but resounding “Non!” September is peak season, my contact explained, and no discounts are available, not on any day, not at any time, not for anyone. Tres désolée.

I was disappointed, but I do respect the decision, even admire it, and certainly envy it. Oh, to be in a position to banish discounts entirely - let them eat cake! Hotel managers understand better than anyone that peak season - or any busy time - is not the time to ask for favours. We must make hay while the sun shines. So please don’t ask us for a seniors rate for your Aunt Sally during the 2010 Winter Olympics.

As for upgrades, hotels are becoming as tightfisted as airlines. When I worked as a sales manager at Canadian Airlines I was overwhelmed with requests for upgrades, special fares and free flights. I learned from my manager that the industry was changing, and we no longer gave things away, not without a trade of equal value. Unfortunately, this change didn’t happen fast enough for Canadian; they went bankrupt. The same principle applies to hotels. If you want a gift certificate for your golf tournament, be prepared to convince us how the exposure will benefit the hotel. Charities are an exception, but even then the hotel benefits by generating goodwill, helping a good cause, and making staff feel magnanimous.

Incidentally, Mr. Greenberg’s name looked familiar to me, so I looked him up in Guest History, the hotel’s equivalent of Google. Sure enough, he stayed at Opus a while back. Did he get an upgrade? Even better.
He got a comp room.

Never a dull moment

2006-05-11T08:06:00.000-07:00

So. A hotel manager’s blog. Maybe a first in the industry, likely not the last. This blog is inspired by a series of columns I wrote in the National Post about the daily life of a hotel manager. There is an enormous amount of interest in the behind-the-scenes workings of luxury hotels. Or so I like to think. Truth is, I’m not sure if anyone actually read my columns. Even friends and family are a bit vague when asked.

Without a doubt, hotels can be fascinating places. Things are rarely as calm and dignified in the "back of the house" as they are in the "front of the house". It's an ideal setting for a reality TV show. In fact, Opus participated in one a while back called Crash Test Mommy. The premise: harried mother with lots of bratty kids switches lives with childless friend. Mom checks into luxury hotel for weekend of pampering while "friend" checks into her home for weekend of Kids Gone Wild. That's Mom pictured above getting her hair done while she watches her kids terrorize her "friend" via webcam.

I made a cameo appearance as the obsequious hotel manager in one episode, and my entire belief system was shattered when I discovered that “reality” TV involves a lot more acting than reality. A scene in which I toured the ecstatic mother through her penthouse suite had to be reshot repeatedly because I kept flubbing my lines. After the suite scene, we went back and staged the arrival scene. Due to a staff shortage I had to sub in as the chauffeur. Mom played it up for the camera as we pulled up, oohing and aahing as though it were her first look at Opus and we hadn't just spent hours filming inside. I accidentally drove the hotel car onto the sidewalk, almost taking out a bellman. That was the end of my reality TV career.

I’d like to say there’s never a dull moment when you're in charge of a luxury hotel. But, sadly, there are lots of dull moments. But not to worry, in this blog I’ll take Stephen King’s advice to writers: I'll leave out the boring parts. I’ll focus on daily challenges and rewards of running a hotel, on some of the more unusual situations I've encountered, and, yes, on some of my most humiliating experiences. Who knows, I might even dish some dirt. But I'll always protect the privacy of our guests, which is paramount. Oh, and I promise to be a blogger, not a flogger - I'll keep Opus propaganda to a minimum. The hotel's track record speaks for itself.

I hope you enjoy.

Sales trips: the sublime and the ridiculous

2006-09-05T16:20:00.000-07:00

With some trepidation, Dan asked me to write the GM’s blog while on vacation. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to moonlight as a blogger while he’s traipsing about Paris, so it’s official: this is now the Director of Marketing and Sales' blog. Of course, having blithely accepted the challenge of writing a witty, yet informative blog (Dan's instructions), I’m now sitting staring at a flashing black cursor wondering what to write about. I confess, I did consider using this space to flatter Dan shamelessly in an obvious attempt to build my own currency before looming employee evaluations. But that seemed a tad self- serving. Instead, with a busy few months business travel ahead for my department, I thought I’d share a few random thoughts on the glamourous trips of a sales and marketing director.

Working for a luxury boutique hotel has distinct perks. Not least of these is staying in other fabulous luxury hotels when traveling on business. (Note the distinction- when I travel for pleasure the quality of the hotels I frequent drops - a lot). My recent trips to visit clients in New York have afforded me stays at the fashionable Hotel Gansevoort, 60 Thompson, and Rivington, as well as various Ian Shrager classics. Next time I’m in town, I’m dying to try out the new “anti-hip” Gramercy Park Hotel opened to fanfare by the eponymous Shrager. Throw in a couple of fabulous dinners at the latest, greatest eateries (Buddha Bar, anyone?) and it’s enough to make me (almost) forget why I'm in New York. Almost.

Reality starts gnawing at my New York fantasy as I cram my largest pleather bag each morning with the usual accoutrements we use to flog our product. Known as swag in industry terms, these include branded candles, CD’s, breath sprays, hats, T-shirts and more. Not to be forgotten are the glossy brochures, expensive sales kits, pricing sheets, catering menus and more. Oh, and of course the trays of cookies, muffins and coffees that I bring to appease each client. I’m getting a back ache just thinking of it. I generally split the seams of one bag per trip - but I refuse to buy one of those wheelie bags and drag it, and my stylish Opus-swag, through Manhattan. The upside to losing a bag is it presents an opportunity to buy a new one every few months. I am one of the street bag vendors’ best clients, and always have this season’s latest Prad-o or Gucc-y when I return to Vancouver. (If you’ve been to New York, you know what I’m talking about).

A requisite of visiting clients in New York is putting one’s best foot forward- literally. On my last trip, this translated into negotiating subway stairs and miles of pavement in the scorching heat with the aforementioned pleather bag crushing down on me and cookie platters precariously balanced, in 4 inch gold trimmed Kenneth Cole shoes. Carrie Bradshaw I am not, however. Two days and several blisters later, I found myself on frantic search for a Payless, any Payless, in order to buy $2 plastic flip flops. To the assortment of swag and brochures in the bag were added my offending heels- quickly donned before each meeting.

Every appointment is different with the ultimate goal, of course, being to land the next biggest client for Opus. Downtown, I’ve run the post 9-11 gauntlet of security at the NYSE (yet another pair of nail clippers lost to zealous guards). Uptown, I’ve swanned through the hallway of a fashionable make up emporium waiting to be ushered to the boardroom, only to find my meeting in the decidedly un-fashionable mail room. Sometimes people are delighted to see me. Often, I’m totally ignored. I’ve found myself shilling my wares in a travel agent lunch room next to an overflowing garbage can and a colony of fruit flies. Not an atmosphere conducive to selling luxury, but I’m a pro.

On return from each trip comes the task of recording and retrieving expenses. Accounting for hotel and restaurant expenses is usually simple - compiling the assorted scraps of table napkins with tips scratched onto them, and crumpled taxi receipts, not so easy. But that’s what a controller is for. Well that, and auditing each item. For some reason finance types never seem to understand the obvious business rationale behind an $18 martini. Don’t they appreciate this is the arduous price of relationship building?

All in all these trips are a definite bonus. Face time with clients is invaluable and the chance to see what other hotels and restaurants are doing in fashion-driven cities like New York so useful. Just don’t let anyone tell you it’s a holiday.

Hotel Confidential

2006-07-14T12:49:00.000-07:00

At Opus we host lots of media, and in return they write stories about Vancouver and (we hope) say great things about us. Recently I’ve been approached by writers of travel blogs like vagablond.com who want write a review. Tech companies and celebrity publicists have long recognized the ability of popular bloggers to generate buzz. But only recently has the travel industry begun to catch on.

Yesterday I had lunch with a colleague, Mika, from Tourism BC, who told me she wants to host a media fam comprised solely of bloggers. I think it’s a brilliant idea. Now that I’m a blogger, the importance of bloggers in my mind has increased dramatically.

For those not familiar with the term “fam”, it is short for familiarization trip. Hotels and tourism bureaus host groups of travel agents, meeting planners and corporate bookers to allow them to experience a destination firsthand. The objective is show them such an amazing time that they go home and tell everyone. Everything is usually free, which makes me think that bloggers would be very enthusiastic participating.

When Opus first opened we hosted all sorts of fams to get the word out, giving free accommodation to anyone remotely influential in the travel industry. We now restrict fams to media groups and film companies, who generate the best results. For media fams, our publicists in LA and New York corral journalists from a variety of outlets. We put them up for a few nights, host a dinner, and hook them up at various spas, restaurants and attractions. Past notable participants include George Wayne of Vanity Fair and Grant Stoddard of Men’s Health.

One of our more memorable media fams took place at the same time Anthony Bourdain, bad boy chef and author of Kitchen Confidential, was staying at Opus. We invited him to our reception, and over champagne he enthralled us with anecdotes about his life as a celebrity chef and hedonist. Moments earlier, Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner had been spotted in the lobby, so everyone was feeling that Opus was quite a fabulous place to be.

Then I noticed smoke billowing from the behind of a man Anthony had arrived with. He had unwittingly backed up against a candle and set his jacket on fire. The jacket went up in flames, everyone screamed, and the man ran around in circles crying out for help. Someone yelled at him to remove the jacket, which he finally did, throwing it to the floor. We all poured our drinks on it (a waste of good champagne), and a banquet server stamped it out.

The man was not hurt, but he was very angry. After uttering veiled threats about suing the hotel, he marched off in a huff, clutching his smoldering jacket, never to be seen again. It turned out that he was not with Anthony; in fact, no one knew who he was. Still, I feared that every piece written by these journalists would start with this story, the lesson being not to crash a party at Opus or you may be set on fire. Fortunately, they focused on the more positive aspects of their stay.

Anthony Bourdain swept into Vancouver once again a few weeks ago, on a tour to promote his new book, The Nasty Bits. I haven’t read it yet, but I loved Kitchen Confidential. We held a reception for him, where he once again regaled local media and staff. Fortunately, this time no one was set on fire.

I'm baaaaack! Did you miss me?

2006-10-11T13:49:00.000-07:00

First up, thanks to Katrina for filling in for me during my vacation. When I read her posts and saw how brilliant they were, I thought, “That brazen little upstart is so fired.” But I’ve since learned to accept being upstaged, and I quite like the idea of a backup for times of low inspiration or excessive workload.

Like now. It’s budget time at Opus, and the reality of having been away for a good part of September is sinking in. This is the busiest time of year for hotel managers; we’re trying to focus on planning for the upcoming year at a time when our hotels are still full of guests who need our attention. Which means lots of extra hours.

Not that I’m complaining. Planning for the upcoming year is always exciting, and I’ve got some great ideas after my recent travels. Right now I’m struggling to find a catchphrase for Opus Hotel’s 2007 plan. In previous years we rolled out our “best boutique experience” vision and a “focus on innovation” strategy, but this year, our fifth in operation, calls for something that reflects how established we now are as a business. I thought of “resting on our laurels” or “less work, more pay” but I doubt it’ll fly with the owners. I’m thinking the best strategy is to stabilize: to secure our guests’ loyalty, our staff’s eternal dedication and our positioning as Vancouver’s #1 boutique hotel.

Phew, glad that’s over. Now I’ll share a few observations from recent trips to Seattle, Paris, Rome, London, Montreal and Toronto, where I checked out about 30 hotels.

· Parisians are a lot nicer than they used to be. Maybe it’s because my French is marginally less deplorable than on previous visits. Or maybe they’ve realized that France is the most visited country in the world, and if people stop coming they will have no one left to condescend to. Whatever the case, merci bien. It made my trip all the more pleasurable.

· At the lounge in Hotel Le Meurice (where, you may recall, I wanted to stay but refused to pay $1300 per night) a simple vodka tonic is 24 Euros, or CDN $35. Thank God I was being hosted. It’s a beautiful hotel with impeccable service, but I’m glad I didn’t stay there. It’s too fussy and old-world for my tastes, and the drinks are far too expensive.

· More to my liking in Paris were Murano, Hotel Costes and the new Kube. Located in a rather dodgy part of the 18th arrondissement, Kube is home to Ice Cube (how cute), a bar made of 22 tons of ice. For 38 Euros (CDN $55) you get ½ hour to sample unlimited Grey Goose vodka blends out of hollowed-out ice cubes. The temperature is kept at a balmy -5, but staff very thoughtfully supply coats and gloves.

· In London, the lobby of the Sanderson Hotel, designed by Philippe Starck and part of Morgan’s Hotel Group, still looks modern and fresh. The bar is hugely popular, and the courtyard is stunning, but we couldn’t help but notice all the working girls preying on international playboys.

· Back in Canada, I stayed at the Drake in Toronto, which lived up its hype. With only 19 rooms it’s more a cluster of bars and restaurants than a hotel, but rooms are well thought-out and inexpensive, and service is great, provided you don’t mind staying on the fringes of Queen West.

· In Montreal we encountered an impressive doorman when we dropped by Hotel Le St. James. Miguel greeted us warmly, sat us down and gave us an overview of the hotel that would put your average sales director to shame, then introduced us around to other staff. Other hotels we liked include Le Germain, the Nelligan, Place d’Armes, Le Godin and the Gault.

· I’ve admired W Hotels for years, but I fear they’re losing their edge. It’s the world’s fastest growing luxury hotel brand, but the look hasn’t evolved much. Service remains inconsistent (some staff interpret the “whatever” philosophy much differently than management intended) and it’s over-branded; you can read only so many cute plays on “W” words before it becomes annoying. Problem is, W appeals to a fashionable crowd whose ever-changing tastes are tough to keep up with, particularly for a hotel chain. Let’s hope they address these issues as they plan for 2007.

· The new Hotel 1000 in Seattle looks awesome.

I could go on and on and on about my travels (as my friends and colleagues will attest), but I’ll leave it at that for now. It’s time to get back to my budget.

Something fishy around here

2006-07-07T11:42:00.000-07:00

It’s room inspection time at Opus. Every manager, from sales manager to controller, gets a block of rooms and a detailed list of items to check off. Walls, mirrors and artwork free of smudges? Check. Toilet paper roll folded into a perfect triangle? Check. Magnum Opus CD playing at turndown? Check. Mini-bar liquor bottles watered down? Check.

[kidding about that last one, of course]

It’s a lot of work, and it’s nerve-racking for our room attendants, but getting our managers into the rooms, checking under beds and lifting sofa cushions, is a great way to familiarize them with guestrooms. An eye for detail and general fussiness are prerequisites in this industry. Because if we don’t find it first, a guest will.

Some of the tricks of the trade to ensure a room has been properly cleaned include running your fingers along picture frames, baseboards and the far reaches of closet shelves. Look at things from a guest’s perspective. Place yourself somewhere a guest will go but an employee would not. Lie down on the bed. Sit on the lid of the toilet. It’s amazing what you might discover. Just make sure the room isn’t reserved or you’ll have some explaining to do when a guest walks in.

In addition to room inspections, once a day I do my “rounds” at Opus. This involves inspecting guest floors, outlets, facilities, meeting rooms and the building’s exterior. Along the way I often pick up debris, tidy up the lounge, seat patrons in Elixir or help guests with directions. My noble nature stops at valet parking, for which staff and guests are grateful (see Never a Dull Moment below). After an unfortunate incident in which a guest thought I was stealing her suitcase, I’ve learned to make sure I’m wearing my nametag before helping with luggage.

Years ago, while on my rounds at another hotel I detected the unmistakable odor of fish. I sniffed my way down the hall, the odor growing stronger as I approached the ice machine room. I lifted the lid. Grinning up at me was a large salmon on a bed of ice. It seems a group of executives had just checked in after a fishing expedition, and one of them wanted to keep his catch fresh. We put the salmon in the hotel cooler for safe-keeping, and drained the ice machine.

At Opus we have a program called "A Day In The Life" that allows employees to experience another position in the hotel for a day. A front desk agent can shadow the director of sales. A reservations agent can shadow the catering manager. So far no one has signed up to be general manager, but I’m still hoping, because I could use a day off. I myself am contemplating a day in housekeeping. I like to clean, and I want to gain a better understanding of what makes this department so good at what they do. But I have to admit I fear I might not pass my room inspections.

The holy grail of the hotel business

2006-05-26T08:54:00.000-07:00

It’s been a busy week at Opus. The hotel has been sold out all week. Well, almost. The holy grail of the hotel business is the “perfect fill”, when every room is occupied and no guests are relocated. It's proven elusive this week.

Relocating is the hotel industry’s equivalent of an airline bumping a passenger. But hotels do it less frequently and we’re nicer about it. Relocates, or “walks”, are also executed more discreetly by hotels; for starters, we don’t announce your name over the intercom. It usually happens late at night, often to a poor, unsuspecting traveler who stumbles in after a horrendous day of travel (which may or may not have included getting bumped from a flight). It’s a nasty way to treat a guest, and hotels try to compensate by paying for the room at another hotel. And being really, really nice when they return. If they return.

Like airlines, hotels overbook to maximize revenues, banking on no-shows. We have revenue managers whose responsibility is to eke every possible dollar out of each room. This is not the person you want to talk to when you’re looking for a deal.

Understandably, a relocated guest can be a very nasty person. In overbooking situations managers pore over the arrivals list, trying to guess who will show and who won’t, and assign rooms accordingly. As guests arrive the available rooms diminish, and stress levels climb. It’s usually the poor, sleep-deprived night staff who have to deal with relocates, even though they are rarely responsible for overbookings.

As night manager at the Pan Pacific, I made a calculated risk that a family of eight from Dubai wasn't going to show. So I gave their 3 suites to a group of businessmen who looked like they’d eat me alive if I relocated them. As I was handing them their keys, announcing to their applause that they had all been upgraded to suites, the Dubai family arrived. An altercation ensued in which the family demanded their rightful suites. Eventually, the businessmen prevailed, and the family was relocated. They were so abusive I had to call security for protection.

The trick with relocating is to send the guest to a hotel that is nice enough that she won’t be even further outraged, but not so nice that she will never return to your hotel. But sometimes the city is so booked you have little choice. In the past I’ve had to relocate people to distant suburbs. Try telling a guest he’s being relocated from a luxury downtown hotel to the Best Western Coquitlam Inn.

Years ago, at the Harbour Castle Westin in Toronto a computer “glitch” resulted in an overbooking of 150 rooms. We set up tables at the hotel entrance so that guests couldn’t even get inside before they were relocated. The entire executive committee occupied these tables, which I thought was pretty impressive, particularly because that meant I didn't have to do it.

Of course, at Opus we never relocate. Okay, almost never.

Last week we relocated a guest due to a late-night plumbing problem, but he was very understanding, and came back the next day. Last year, a guest’s dog got sick all over a room just prior to checkout. The dog was just a tiny thing, but the stench was so overwhelming it could have been an elephant. Housekeeping steam-cleaned the carpet several times over, but the odor persisted. Colin, our guest services manager, furiously reassigned rooms as one by one our guests arrived. By 2:00am we were down to one arrival and one smelly room. Colin prayed this last guest would no-show. But in walked the happy couple – direct from their wedding reception.

As a sidenote, the owner of this subversive little dog (pictured above, the chubby, guilty-looking one on the left) belonged to our former general manager, David Curell, who was back for a visit. He's now at Hotel Vitale in San Francisco. Apparently they're not pet-friendly at Vitale.

Normally we never relocate guests celebrating a special occasion, but they don’t always tell us this at time of reservation. A couple we relocated last year was celebrating the husband’s 50th birthday. They were enormously upset when we relocated them to the Four Seasons. I called the husband the following Monday to make amends, and was mortified when he accused us of relocating them because they were "too old". There must have been a pretty young crowd in the lounge that night. I sent them a gift certificate for a return stay, but they haven’t come back yet.

Tonight looks promising for a perfect fill. We’re sitting at "0": 58 rooms occupied and 38 arrivals. If there are no cancellations, no unexpected stayovers and no no-shows, we’ll have a perfect fill.

Let’s hope no wedding couples arrive unexpected in the wee hours of the morning.